


Brave Idiot

by rayshant_bestopt



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, counter-protesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 14:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11923170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayshant_bestopt/pseuds/rayshant_bestopt
Summary: Barry's at his first counter-protest, catching trouble before it even starts when a fellow activist catches his eye.  It'd be great if he had the guts to actually talk to him...





	Brave Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> I just got back from the rally in San Francisco, and this interaction was inspired by a confrontation that happened while I was there. It's a really rough piece, so sorry about that, but I still wanted to write it.

Barry sat quietly in his seat, listening to the rumble of the car along the tracks. He’d never taken the metro before, but with the exception of the handles along the ceiling and seats and the lack of room for luggage, it seemed pretty much exactly like the regular train. Which was good—he’d been a little worried about coming here and looking like an idiot trying to figure out the system.

He’d been a little worried about everything, honestly—Joe wasn’t pleased about him going to this rally alone, despite him insisting he wouldn’t be anywhere near the trouble spots. He was going to a peace rally in probably the most liberal part of Coast City you could find. And anyways, the Alt-Right had canceled their own gathering, so any counter-protest was probably fine.

Joe was still worried-- the law abiding crazies not showing up didn't mean no one would-- but Iris had understood. You could only allow yourself to watch so much blatant xenophobia before you had to do something. She would have come with him if she hadn’t had an assignment happening at the same time. So she hugged him and made him promise to stay safe and text often.

The car slowly filled up, and Barry just watched, trying not to catch anyone’s eye for too long, in case that seemed rude. His emerald gaze kept flickering back to the metro route, memorizing the stops until his. The transfers, the emergency protocol. Anything to keep his mind occupied in the silence.

When the doors opened on 16th, his eyes darted to the sliding doors to take in the new arrivals. No one that particularly stood out for a counter-protest, but the sandy-haired man shuffling into a corner and gripping the bar, effectively blocking Barry’s view of the map, was definitely noteworthy. His blue eyes made their own sweep around the car, and Barry quickly looked down to his hands in his lap, counting his breaths as his cheeks flushed.  
After another minute or so, he finally dared to raise his head again, taking in the broad-shouldered man. He was more relaxed now, as if whatever he’d been looking for nowhere to be seen, and was even smiling softly at the animated man standing next to him. His friend’s hands were making spirited gestures along the blue of his polo as they told a story that Barry was too far away to hear, but every so often he would grin at the third member of their party, who’s somber (if not somewhat grouchy) face would lighten infinitesimally as he gave the resigned chuckle of someone who was far too used to tolerating this level of enthusiasm. Barry decided he liked this group of companions quickly, and hoped that they were heading in the same direction.

City Hall came, and Barry rose to his feet, his heart jumping a bit when he realized the three others were exiting as well, the shaggy brunet quieting as they began walking up the steps toward the main street, but still content as his fingers brushed those of the gruffer man’s as they walked and the sandy-haired third walking a half-step behind, muscles still vaguely tense beneath tight dark green shirt. Barry kept pace about five feet behind them, taking in the sights as he tried to get his bearings while not losing the trio ahead of him.

The first time someone shouted, Barry honestly thought it was just a homeless man rambling. He watched as the gruffer member of the group turned back, eyes narrowed at the lanky figure sitting on the ground. His fists clenched and Barry could see that the only thing that kept him from stepping any closer was the hand flat against the chest of his gray Henley. Their eyes met, and the burly man conceded a step, waiting until the brunet’s hand dropped to turn back to the black-clad man on the ground and hock a spitwad three feet into his feet. Barry cringed as he watched the bald man turn back to a quiet admonishment by the brunet and complete indifference by the muscular blonde, and wondered if maybe he didn’t want to be friends with these type of people after all.

When he looked back at the man on the ground though, he did a small doubletake—the man had his phone raised, following them. _Since when did homeless people have smart phones?_

The next block City Hall was easily in sight, and Barry noticed there were even more people in dark colors; sitting on steps, hanging back, watching. He was still five feet behind the other three, but so far no one had said a word to him. Maybe he just looked too normal to be bothered with, although he didn't see how he looked so different than anyone else, much less the men in front of him.

And then a stream of water crashed next to him, splashing his shoes as it crowded up against the pant legs of the blonde man. Barry watched all three of them turned, and his own eyes shifted to watch a man gleefully smirking as he held onto his now-empty water bottle.

“You got a problem, faggots?” he asked, and Barry’s eyes went wide. This man was by no means small or weak, but Barry had his doubts of whether he could take on any one of the three men that were now glaring at him—much less all three if they chose to confront him.

“Yeah I got a problem, you asshole.” The muscular blonde’s reply was low, and under different circumstances would have sent a shiver down Barry’s spine rather than scaring the shit out of him as he watched him step closer. “So why don’t you back the hell off?”

“I’m just standing here, faggot,” the instigator retorted, and Barry could feel his own blood starting to rise. They were just trying to get somewhere—they weren’t even _doing_ anything. And this guy was acting like _he_ was the put-upon party?

“Yeah right—go crawl back under a rock, you piece of shit.” The blonde had more composure than most, and Barry watched him turn back to his group to wait for the crosswalk sign to light up.

“You want to start something? Hey, I said _you want to start something?!_ ” God, this guy just wouldn’t shut up, sauntering casually after them. 

Barry was pissed, and turned away from the street. “What the hell is your problem?” he shouted, stepping directly into the man’s line of sight. He was facing the wrong way, and so missed the look of surprise on the group’s face, which was probably for the best. Instead, he continued, “Seriously? Back off.”

The group must still be there, because the man didn’t even look at Barry—looked right past him, keeping an eye where the blue-eyed man had been standing when Barry had last been looking. Barry couldn’t decide if it made him more angry because this man was so focused on the other, or if he thought so little of Barry that he didn’t even acknowledge him.

“Hey—hey guys!” Barry saw the man in his peripheral vision, short and stocky in some sort of uniform as he held his hands out between them. “Just back up, guys—everyone just back off.” The stranger’s eyes focused hard on the instigator, who just laughed.

“Yeah, you come back here, I’ll shove a knife up your ass—bet you’d like that, fag.” He called over Barry’s shoulder, stepping backward toward his roost.

The uniformed stranger then shifted his eyes toward Barry, nodding his head in a gesture to move him along as well, and Barry turned to go, face burning with embarrassment. He’d wanted to help, but instead he’d been completely ineffective and probably looked like an idiot.

He kept his face focused on his shoes as he strode to the other side of the street, which meant that when he wasn’t paying attention to what was happening and collided directly into another body as soon as he hit the sidewalk.

“Whoa, hey,” a pair of strong hands gripped his shoulders to keep him upright, and Barry’s head snapped up to stare into the blue eyes of the man he’d been following. “You okay?”

“Um…yeah,” the younger man replied eloquently, his brain short circuiting as he got a close-up on the tiny flecks in the piercing orbs. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The hands let him go, and Barry immediately missed the contact. “Okay,” he replied with a gentle laugh. “And thanks, for that back there.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Barry’s head flopped like a bobblehead, smiling broadly as the other man deigned to talk to him.

"Some of those guys just like to stir up trouble," he continued. "It's usually better to just ignore them, but sometimes--" He shook his head.

"He was a dick," Barry assured him, and was rewarded with an amused smile, complete with dimples that were completely unfair in their appeal.

“Are you headed to Mission?” the brunet suddenly spoke up from beside him, and Barry forced himself to tear his gaze from the blonde to the other, blinking to focus. “You can walk with us, if you aren’t with anyone else. They say safety in numbers and all.”

“Uh, yeah,” Barry replied. Being on the _front lines_ of the counter-protest had actually never been his intention at any stage of planning, but now he didn’t really want to leave the companions. Or the blonde man.

“We’re going to punch some pigs and Nazis,” the third added, his gravelly inflection obviously gleeful at the prospect.

“ _Protest_ police brutality and white supremacists, Mick,” the other corrected, nudging the man with his shoulder as he grumbled, face dropping in disappointment. “No one is getting punched.”

“Or if they are, not arrested,” the sandy-haired man remarked with a smirk, turning to Barry. “I’m Oliver, by the way.”

Barry’s face lit up as he took the other man’s hand. “Barry,” he responded.

“I’m Ray, and this is my boyfriend Mick,” the brunet supplied, turning with a bright smile of his own as he reached for Barry’s hand, the other man merely grunting in acknowledgment. “It’s good that you’re here—I could use another set of eyes to keep these two out of trouble.”

The group laughed, and Barry smiled as they all began continuing past the Hall toward the park. As Ray began to explain their itinerary for the day, Oliver lagged back slightly to walk beside Barry, and well, maybe the younger boy hadn’t made such an idiot out of himself after all. Especially when the other made certain to give him his number at the end of the march.


End file.
